


And If I Die Before I Wake

by Miss_L



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hallucinations, Nightmares, Some people dying too, The whole crazies goody-bag really, Violence, some gore, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is not okay - when is he ever? And where is the stag in all this?<br/>In short, he finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Will whispers into black fragrant hair. The woman in his arms keeps thrashing and trying to scream - as well she should - but he squeezes her throat from behind until she passes out. He won't kill her right away. There would be no fun in that. She will have to be awake when he does, though. Obviously. However, he needs time to prepare, so she might as well rest a bit.

The cellar of the squat he's using is ready now, and Beverly Katz wakes up just in time to see Will put on plastic coveralls and take a knife from a nearby table. She tries to turn onto her belly and crawl away, but the man has heard her movement. In one swift motion, he's on top of her, pinning her pelvic bone to the hard stone floor. Beverly is still slightly breathless from having been choked, but her terror gives her strength beyond what would be considered "human". Will is prepared.

He puts the knife behind him on the ground, out of reach of his writhing prey, then grabs her wrists and pins them above her head. _Yes._ He had gauged the distance to the padlock perfectly, and soon she feels two cold steel bands enclasp her wrists. His service handcuffs. The look on Beverly's face is precious - there's fury, and fear, and disbelief, and disgust there - Will finds it amusing. He laughs - an unnatural, high sound that reverberates through the cold bare space. The shivering body beneath him stills. He's not certain whether she's given in, or just biding her time, but he doesn't care.

Will reaches back for the knife again. He's out of balance for a millisecond, and Beverly uses it to push her hips up and kick at his back. _Biding her time, then._ Unfortunately for her, Will overpowers her again, with almost no effort at all. He's sad that they're not having a real, fair fight, but it's his first time, so he needs some stability. Hence the handcuffs. Next time, he won't need restraints anymore, he knows that. For now, he focuses on Beverly Katz. He will be kind enough to her - after all, she was always kind to him.

But he also needs to be firm. Otherwise, there is no point to anything anymore. Will spares her the sight of the knife - he'd had ample time to admire the thin, almost surgical stainless steel blade. He'll make it quick - he's rehearsed this in his head about a hundred times, but still he hesitates. There will be no way back after this. But the man knows he will never fully _understand_ , unless he _becomes_.

He won't make a mess today, either. She deserves better, and he's not got a lot of time before dusk - there could be some cleaning up to do. In a sudden, fluid movement, Will slashes through Beverly's shirt, skin and muscles just under the left side of her rib cage, opening her up like a kiddle, blood gushing out like a school of fish yearning for freedom. 

The woman is still too stunned to make a sound, but the moment the pain registers in her brain, the screaming finally starts. It hurts Agent Graham's ears. He puts the knife in his left hand, and before Beverly's first shout dies away, he's yanked her still-beating heart out with his right. The shock in the woman's eyes slowly flows out, until nothing more is left but a matte veil. A second scream dies on her lips before having had the chance to be heard.

Will sits panting, then gets up, puts the beautiful organ in a tupperware jar and washes his gloved hands in a bowl of water. He'll have time to admire Beverly's heart later. It was always her best feature, but right now, he needs to finish the job. He pours some water over the wound - it's almost ceased bleeding now - then kneels down and sews the gash up, as neatly as he can. He takes off the ruined white shirt, careful to handle his late friend's body with the respect it deserves. Will undoes the handcuffs, then washes the remaining blood off her chest. When Beverly's soulless remains are clean, he moves her to a more or less clean spot on the floor and puts her in a clean blouse he pinched from her home, then covers her with a blanket and closes her eyes.

William Graham leaves everything but his knife and the trophy he took at the scene, and takes off quietly. He'll need to burn the gloves and wash out the coverall. He's already imagining at least five ways in which he could prepare Ms. Katz' heart, but none of them do it quite justice. No matter. He's got the time to ponder on that.

\---

Will wakes up with a scream, panting into his soaking wet pillow, sweat practically flowing from his body. After a few minutes, he finally gathers the courage to check himself for blood - _clean_ \- then walk to the kitchen and switch on the light. He winces when he opens the fridge, but no hearts to be found anywhere. He rubs his forehead, feeling migraine coming up. _Dammit, it felt so real..._ The man is shivering. It's 4 a.m. and she will probably kill him, but he can't help it. He must be sure. He picks up the phone. It rings four times before it's picked up.

"Mmmm... Beverly Katz speaking..."

Will lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiles at himself. _Silly._

"Who izzis?" Little crackle as she checks the caller ID. "Will? Will, is everything alright?"

Agent Graham swallows past the lump on his throat. "Yes, Beverly, everything is fine. I'm sorry I woke you, I didn't mean to call you. Sorry."

He switches off the phone, puts it on the counter and sighs. Then he falls to his knees on the hard kitchen floor and weeps uncontrollably, holding himself lest he falls apart entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

Next day, Will had a session with Doctor Lecter. He was 20 minutes too early, pacing the waiting room the entire time. When Hannibal finally opened the door with his usual friendly smile, Agent Graham pushed past him, practically dove into his usual chair and started narrating his nightmare even before the other man was sitting down. The psychiatrist listened intently, seemingly unfazed by he gory nature of the dream. Will finished talking and silence fell.

After a few minutes, the tension in Agent Graham's body seemed to dissipate a little, and Hannibal finally spoke.

"This is new. Usually, your nightmares are echos of the horrors you've seen, or done yourself, but this is something else." Will rested his eyes on the stag-figurine and nodded. Hannibal followed his gaze.

"And the stag? Did you see it last night?" Will seemed surprised at the question, then he frowned.

"No. No, I didn't see it, but... I'm sure he was there. I... I think _I_ was the stag..." His eyes widened and he finally looked back at Doctor Lecter. The other man nodded and wrinkled his nose in thought.

"What _else_ were you, William?" He knew he didn't need to elaborate the question. He hoped he hadn't made a miscalculation.

Will grew still, eyes glassy, as if watching something play behind his eyeballs. He snapped back to the present with an unusual determination.

"I was not myself. I mean..." he hastened to explain, "I was not doing the usual thing whoever I dreamed about would do. I... It wasn't savage enough. The motive was different... Even so, I took her heart and I intended to eat it..." His voice trailed off. Hannibal's lips twitched a little, and he adjusted the lapels of his suit. The expression on his face stayed mild. But Will wasn't looking at him anyway.

Then the young man smiled, his eyes darting around the room, amusement bouncing around in them like Christmas lights.

"Of course. How blind I was..." He looked Hannibal straight in the eyes now, which surprised the ever-prepared psychiatrist. "That's why he called Hobbs, isn't it? The Ripper? It's not the killing that attracted him. Not the type, either. It's the... eating." Hannibal saw Will's nose and lips twitch, mirroring his own. The young man wasn't aware that he was mimicking him. Doctor Lecter's body tensed, ready to pounce, or run, or whatever would be needed if Will came to the right conclusion. And he probably would. He couldn't stop it now, Agent Graham was too deep in his own head to steer him away.

Hannibal mentally berated himself for having been so slow today. He might have prevented the course this conversation had taken - and it was his own imprudent question that had done it. As things were, he was obliged to sit back and watch the comprehension on Will's face grow. He was not entirely unproud of his friend, but he'd rather not end his life so soon.

Will Graham was still holding Doctor Lecter's gaze, plunging the maroon depths willingly now. There was something... Something he couldn't quite grasp. But the doctor's demeanor had changed - he could feel it in his bones. Hannibal cocked his head a little and his eyes caught the shine from the desk lamp. Suddenly, his expression seemed darker, red dots dancing in his irises. Will stilled, body going rigid like he was the stag figurine sitting on a pedestal. Except _he_ wasn't the stag.

"Tell me, Doctor..." Will's voice had changed. He watched Hannibal's facial expression change at last, the beautifully constructed mask falling off like the scales from a dead fish. It was terrifying, but also beautiful in its own right. Will's gut coiled. He knew he had taken a peek behind the curtain, and he couldn't imagine he would be allowed to live after that. He forgot what he had been saying, but words were superfluous at this point.

Hannibal started out of his chair, grabbing the scalpel from his desk before Will had had the chance to get up. He was already behind the younger man when Will finally managed to stand up. The agent felt two strong arms envelop his body, the scalpel pressing unpleasantly against his ribs as Hannibal put his right hand around his throat. The absurdity of the situation numbed Agent Graham's reaction.

"I'm so, so sorry, William..." Hannibal whispers into his damp curly hair. The other doesn't struggle - he's seen enough to know all resistance is futile.


End file.
